


Party at the Brownstone

by Quipxotic



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Beware: here there be silliness, Curses! Another multi-chapter story!, Fluff, Gen, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 09:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5200988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quipxotic/pseuds/Quipxotic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time someone asked NairobiWonders to write a story about Sherlock throwing a party. While she passed on it on the humanitarian grounds that she could not bring herself to force Sherlock to throw a party, I have no such scruples. </p><p>So, welcome to a party at the Brownstone!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Party at the Brownstone

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies - this is fairly dorky and I’m certain I’ve used (or will use) Americanisms for Sherlock in places where I didn’t/don't mean to, so feel free to correct anything I get wrong.
> 
> …I may have also bent the Brownstone impossibly…I can’t really wrap my head around the logistics of that place even with amindamazed‘s amazing notes on the subject.

“I’m home!” Joan Watson called out as she let herself in to the brownstone she shared with Sherlock. She hung up her coat by the door and continued talking as she walked into the library, “We were right, the butler shot the singing…” 

She froze in the doorway. A table was in the middle of the room and on it sat a huge punch bowl full of…well, it looked like punch, but with Sherlock you could never tell. Plates full of snacks were placed in perfect geometric symmetry around the punch bowl and brightly colored streamers in shades of blue, silver, and gold were hanging from the ceiling. What she didn’t see was any evidence of her partner.

“Sherlock?” she called out questioningly. 

“Kitchen!” came the succinct reply.

“What’s going on? Are you…throwing a party?” Joan asked as she made her way through the brownstone and down the stairs to the kitchen. The whole idea seemed impossible - Sherlock Holmes was not the party-throwing type. 

She was about halfway down the stairs when the smell first hit her. “Is that…gingerbread?”

“Ginger nut,” corrected Sherlock as he busily checked on the contents of the oven. “Biscuits, to be precise. Cookies to you Americans. I am not really a fan, but most people seem to like them.”

“What’s going on, Sherlock?” Joan asked again as she looked around, blinking in astonishment. Every flat surface in the kitchen seemed to be laden with pots, pans, and mixing bowls. She’d seen Sherlock cook before, of course. In fact, she always liked it when he cooked for her, but this was a bit over-the-top even for her mercurial roommate and friend. She walked to grab a drink out of the refrigerator while Sherlock, evidently satisfied with the progress of the cookies in the oven, straighten up and returned to mixing a substance in a large bowl. 

He didn’t look at her as he spoke. “Everyone delivered some vital information on my latest case this morning and they are, as is their wont, extracting payment in the form of humiliation.” 

“By having you throw a party? Okay, that’s…odd, even by their standards. It’s not even humiliating,” she added, “I can call Marcus, Captain Gregson, Alfredo, Ms. Hudson, and a few other people we know. It could be fun.” She smiled slightly. “But what’s with the punch bowl? And the streamers? It’s looking a bit ‘Enchantment Under the Sea’ up there.”

Sherlock frowned. “Everyone has been very specific about certain aspects of this…endeavor, including the decor and guest list.” He rocked on his feet slightly as he spoke, glancing up at her furtively. He looked, she realized, nervous and a bit embarrassed. 

Joan squared her shoulders and walked towards him. “Okay, so…how can I help?”

Upstairs the doorbell rang. 

“Everyone is sending us guests, so answering the door would be most helpful at the moment.” Sherlock turned back to the counter and began pouring the batter he had mixed into small muffin tins. 

“Right…” Joan replied. “Surprise guests. Wonderful.” As she walked back up the steps and around to the front door of the brownstone, the door bell sounded four more times in quick succession. “All right, all right, I’m coming,” she groused as she unlocked and pulled open the door.

On the doorstep stood a rather impatient delivery man. “Finally,” he said when he saw her. “I have a package for a…” he squinted at the name on the package, “Sher-lock…Homes?” 

“It’s Holmes. Yes, he’s here. I’ll take it for him.”

The delivery man handed over a large but skinny rectangular box. Watson was surprised by how light it was and inside she could hear items rattling against each other as she shifted the box slightly. On the portion of the package where the sender’s name should be was a large “E” written in dark red ink. Let it never be said that Everyone didn’t have a flair for the dramatic. 

She looked up from studying the box to see the delivery man hurrying down the front steps. “Don’t you need me to sign?” she called after him. Not receiving any answer, she closed and locked the door again and headed back down to the kitchen.

“It looks like Everyone sent you something,” Joan said slowly, still studying the package as she walked in the room. Sherlock was washing batter off his hands, so she asked, “Do you want me to open it?”

“Please,” he replied, without turning around.

Joan made short work of the packing tape on the white mailing box. Once it was open, she reached inside and pulled out a dark blue rectangular box. On the lid of blue box was the image of a comically spooky cartoon house and the word “ _CLUE_ ” in large letters.

“Uh, Sherlock,” Joan asked, turning around to show him the board game box, “Did Everyone say what kind of party this was?”


End file.
